


Stories of Panem

by BubblyGreenBubbles



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Multi, Underage - Freeform, multi-pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyGreenBubbles/pseuds/BubblyGreenBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a piece written as a part of the PTB S-university  workshop. It's has multiple pairings. You don't have to be a part of the workshop to understand what is happening in the story. Collection of One Shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lesson 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: Ficology- The Human/Vampire Reproductive System.

At first they find it sweet that you’re so naïve; the sweet little district boy who barely knows what to do with a woman. Then after the first dozen or so you learn more.

You learn to tell what a client may enjoy after the first look at them –the first conversation. That cuts out the awkward foreplay. You always find it easier to take requests (demands) from them. But in the end it's obvious at this point your naivety is gone and that they've started to shape you.

After so long they can't even fathom that you were once a naïve young boy. No, not this handsome man who makes them feel things their spouses can't even comprehend. Well, some can, but they pay extra for the couple's package.

Sometimes you long for the feel of un-treated skin. To run your fingers through long soft (black) hair; not to have to look at the stiff, colored wigs they all favor. The body modifications disgust you –the pierced skin, split tongues. You've no idea why people find this attractive.

But more often than not you need them to look less than human. Because it helps you feel as though it isn't happening. Makes it seem like some twisted nightmare. But it's a nightmare that still happens when you're awake.

"I can't believe Daddy bought me you for my birthday. All my friends are going to be jealous when I tell them I got you first." Her voice makes her sound 15, but that could have been changed – however the make-up that's covering every inch of her face makes her look at least 30.

"I'm sure you're used to making people jealous,” you whisper in her ear. You need to make it seem like you want her. Pushing your erection against her stomach causes her to let out a giggle. You hate the sound. It's so light and innocent and it makes you think of her.

"Oh Finnick, take me, make me yours.” Her voice has a sigh in it. The more she talks the younger she seems. The girl has clearly been reading too many of those romance novels the ladies of the Capitol rave about.

Like every other victor they have under their thumb, you have a specialty move or thing that defines you from the rest. One has her teeth that can bite through anything; another specializes in discipline, if that's what you’re into.

'The Trident', that's what they all want from you. They all think you take them this way as some sort of throwback about how you won. They like that. They like knowing what happened in that arena will be with you forever. Your trade mark, your signature.  
You do it like this so you don't have to look at them. Don't really have to feel them. It makes it easier. It makes it worse. You can never decide.

You lay the naked girl against the silk sheets, again she's giggling, you're sure she shouldn't be doing this.

Lying next to her, you mumble, "Get on." 

Moving quickly, the girl straddles you. "Turn around."

She looks confused for a moment, but then realizes what you're going to do to her.

"Lie along my legs, hands on my ankles. Nice and straight." You can feel her heat against you, her soft stomach against your legs. If you look at the ceiling during the act you can imagine it's someone else (Annie). 

Letting out a long moan you can't be sure is fake or not, she pushes her hips into your hand as you get her ready.

"Oh, please, Finnick, now. NOW!" She screams the last words as you part her legs which lie along each side of your head and push into her slowly.

"Move your hips, you'll enjoy it more.” You try not to talk too much during. It means you have to pay more attention.

The woman lying above you makes the most ridiculous sounds, suppose you are too.

"Do you like that, hun, fucking me? Oh I know you like it." She's trying to look around at you, but it's impossible in this position. It's how you want it.

"Yes." (No)

You stay like this for a while, until you know she's gotten her monies worth. Then you let yourself spill inside her. Throughout your orgasm you feel empty. (Sometimes you feel empty with her as well.)


	2. Lesson 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: The non-gratuitous lemon

The fabric of his bed sheets is rough against my bare back; you can easily tell they haven't been washed in months, but since it's him that doesn't surprise me at all.

As his lips move along my neck, pressing hard, I find myself looking out the window towards the house with one light on. I wonder if he can hear everything happening in here. The sad thing is, if he can, I don't think he can bring himself to care anymore.

I feel sick as I roll us over and push his shoulders against the bed. I lean in and kiss him, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. I can't help but moan at the way it feels. Inside I wish I could just scream instead.

His body is different from what I'm used to. It's softer, but rougher, and that makes it all the easier to tell myself this is wrong.

As I run my hands along his chest and stomach, I try to imagine hard, defined muscles under my fingertips. His breathing gets harder and louder as I move down his body. The smell of him fills the room, his room, the wrong room.

Pulling his pants off him, I throw them to the corner of the room. It doesn't matter where they land, it's all mess, and I'm still not used to it.

I remember the first time I took a man into my mouth. It was awkward, but I was so determined for it to be good for him; for me to be good at it. At the time I knew he was fighting himself to not weave his fingers through my hair and push into my mouth. He's always a gentleman I guess.  
But this is different. He pulls roughly at my hair and it hurts. And I need it to hurt. I need to be punished, but it feels so good.

He isn't gentle. He's never gentle. We're not gentle. He uses his leverage with my hair to push me further onto him, till I gag, till I can't breathe; I love it so much.

Letting go of my hair, he pushes me off him; I land on the floor, and he gets off the bed, walks towards me and wraps his arm around my waist.

We stand silently at the edge of the bed. His chest pressed against my back and his hands upon my breasts. He brings his left hand up to the back of my head to pull it to the side so he can put his mouth at my neck. His other large hand completely covers between my thighs. I know it isn't there to please me, just to see if I can take him yet.

Sometimes he likes to remind me that the sooner I'm honest with everyone, the sooner he'll give me everything. But he doesn't get it. Half the appeal of sleeping with him now is the punishment of never really getting off. I don't deserve that blissful and rough passion that makes me want to scream his name. The wrong name.

He pushes his way inside me slowly but pulls out quickly. I can tell he's angry tonight. He's setting a pace that's all for him, a pace that means he's not going to last long.

As he gets what he wants from me, I just bury my face into the rough sheets and try to think of what it would be like if this was happening in the other house, with the right person.

I know that everyone knows what happens here. But they're all just waiting for me to say it, to confirm or deny. But I can't, I need this to be all mine. For the guilt to be all mine. So for now it's the worst kept secret in the district.

When he's spent himself he collapses beside me and I roll over and look at his face. He's looking at the ceiling. He never looks at me afterwards. I know he feels the pain and the guilt too; the burden of our secret. It wouldn't be so bad to keep it between us, in our relationship, but that won't work since there are really three people in this relationship.

"Are you ever going to tell the boy, sweetheart?"


	3. Lesson 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: Writing a virgin scene.

His hands were clumsy as he undid the buttons on the front of her dress. Gale’s big, strong hands trying to handle the small, delicate clips in Madge’s hair, letting the long blonde strands fall to cover her pale breasts, was a sight to see. He was worried he was going to rip the expensive fabric of her panties when he pulled them from her hips.

The sound of her soft giggle filled the room. Her laughing was not the motivation he needed right then.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’re normally so calm and collected. You always have an air about you that tells people around you –you know what you’re doing. But right now you look like you’re going to pass out.” She had tried to reassure him, but the smile still played on her lips. He couldn’t help but smile as well, sure he looked utterly ridiculous.

“Sorry, I’m trying, but this is the first time I’ve done this much.” He couldn’t look at her when he admitted this. He knew most girls in District 12 assumed that he’d already been with girls at the slag heap. At least the ones that didn’t assume him and Katniss had already been together.

But he refused to think about her in that moment; he knew she wasn’t thinking about him.

He wouldn’t think about how he should have been running his fingers through her long braid, pulling dirty hunting pants off of her olive legs. They’d be in the forest, not on pale pink sheets.

“Well what have you done then?” He could tell by the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes that she was worried she may not be experienced enough to please him.

“Just some of the normal things up at the slag heap, you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, Auron gave me a blow job once.” He’d had thought about the petite brunette girl on her knees in front of him, and her rage when he had cum saying the wrong name.

“Did you enjoy it?”

He was sure it was a trick question. Of course he’d enjoyed it. He had no idea what answer she wanted.

“Yeah, sure, I guess.”

“Do you want another?” It was definitely a trick question.

Before he could answer her, she’d got on her knees in front of him, running her palm against him, feeling him strain against his pants. He groaned when his cock was freed from his pants as she pulled them down to his ankles.

Her hand was warm and soft - she’d clearly never worked a day in her life- as she wrapped it around him. Her movements were slow and tentative and her faced showed how unsure of herself she was. Her features changed to a look of determination as she took him into her mouth for the first time. 

With his head thrown back, he gripped her shoulders. Looking down he could see that she was having trouble taking him, but then she swirled her tongue around and his eyes rolled back for a moment.

He’d saw grey eyes looking up at him, her plump lips kissing him. He’d always wanted to know what it would be like to shut her smart mouth like this, to make her yield to him.

With gentle hands he moved her off of him and brought her face to his, kissing her deeply before pushing her against the sheets. Since she was so new to having someone’s hands on her, some of his touches would make her giggle. Madge was ticklish it turned out.

He tried to make it good for her, tried to get her ready, but he just couldn’t wait. He felt if he didn’t get inside of her he was going to explode.

She almost stopped the whole thing when he pushed inside her that first time. Maybe he should have waited longer, pleased her more, and asked if she was ready.

Instead he just closed his eyes as he moved. He wanted so badly for it to be Katniss’s body underneath him –to run his hands along her toned legs, her firm waist, wrapping her long hair in his fists as he moved in her.

It was all too much too soon; he wasn’t ready for the feeling, the emotions. It all overwhelmed him.

And just like with Auron, he said the wrong name.

That had been weeks ago and Madge never said anything about it. He didn’t either when Katniss returned.

“No Catnip, I’d been too busy worrying about you to get up to anything while you were gone.”


	4. Lesson 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: Jerking Off

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” My pale hand strokes her soft olive cheek. 

Her small, soft hand grasps mine and pulls it from against her face to the underside of her breast. She takes my grip from her hip and moves it to mirror my other hand. 

“Oh, touch me Peeta. Please, please touch me.” Her voice is soft, but her longing for me evident. 

Her flesh is soft and warm in my hands; I love the weight of her resting against my palms as I knead my hands against her. 

The sound of her moans fills the air around us, and goes straight to my growing problem. She sounds so soft and needy.

Her hands are on me, on either side of my face pulling me towards her lips. I’ve imagined kissing her lips a thousand times. To feel them move against mine, to feel them part and lead to something deeper. Thoughts like these had kept me company on so many nights. But now I have the real thing. In the unlikely circumstance of being in the middle of the games, in a cave I have finally gotten what I’d spent years dreaming about. 

Lying against her body I can feel her heat against my skin. My hands dip lower, along her waist, against her hips. 

“Stop, Peeta.” Her voice is quiet and forceful. 

“I’m sorry. I knew it was too much.”

“It’s not that. I do want this, Peeta. I really do. But I want to touch you too. I want to make you feel like you make me feel.” With her hands on my shoulders she pushes me onto my back, reversing our positions. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted you, Peeta. How I’ve dreamed of feeling your hands on me. I’ve touched myself, you know, thinking about it.”

“Can you show me?”

“What?” Her voice seems so meek. 

“Show me what you do when you think about me.” I try to sound confident. 

She goes to move from on top of me, but I grasp both her thighs moving her to straddle me. As I lift her, her leg knocks over the meal Haymitch sent -dried plums and the orange flakes- we had for breakfast. 

Her left hand moves her underwear to the side, her right hand dips between her legs as she throws her head back. 

“P…P… Please Peeta. Put your hands on me.” 

Well who am I to deny her? Her fingers move faster between her legs as I lean up and bring the tip of her breast into my mouth.

Her frantic hand brushes against my stomach; an amazing feeling shoots straight to my groin as she cries out above me. Her screaming my name is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. She collapses against me, my hands stroking her back. 

The only sounds that fill the cave now are the rain outside and our breathing. I feel her hand slowly move down toward my cock. 

“Oh… oh… that is so…” Her firm grip is moving up and down and it brings me to a loss of words. A small smile plays on her lips at this. I want to kiss her so badly. 

I don’t know where to look at her face, which is staring so intently at what she is doing, or to where her hand is around me. 

But the moment I feel her mouth on me it doesn’t matter it becomes too much for me to keep my eyes open. The tension that had been building up inside me finally let’s go. 

And I open my eyes to find Katniss on her lying on her side, still out cold, and with my own hand gripping me. 

It didn’t matter if I was alone in the bedroom I shared with my brothers above the bakery, or in a cave in the middle of the games were everything is televised. Her effect on me is still the same. 

And it makes me feel so pathetic.


	5. Lesson 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Realism

I've no idea how it happened and I've no idea why I want it to happen again. I'd only gone over there to see Katniss. Nothing more, I swear it was nothing more.

I didn't think anything was wrong or different when she invited me into the victor home. I'd been here a dozen times before with her daughter.

I thought she was just being polite when she took my hunting jacket from me, and when she sat next to me at the table in the main room as we drank dandelion tea.

But the moment I felt her hand on my knee I knew something was different. At first I was too surprised to do anything. But when her hand started moving further up my thigh I had to ask, I had to know what she was doing. She said nothing, her hand moving up closer and closer till…

"Eilian, Mrs Everdeen, what... what are you doing?" I'd moved to the other side of the large room in a matter of seconds. She couldn't have been doing… that.

"You take such good care of me and the girls." –Please don't mention your children now. — "I just wanted to thank you." She looks sincere as she speaks and I almost forget why I'd moved so far away from her in the first place.

"How?" I already know that answer but a part of my mind is clinging to the hope I'm wrong. But another part isn't.

She walks towards me and even though I know what's going to happen, she looks no different. The small part of me that doesn't want this to happen, wants her to seem different. To look different, act different, for her to be anything other than my best friend's mother.

She doesn't say anything just walks over to me and places her hands against my shoulders and brings her mouth up to mine. As her lips move against mine I gently touch her waist. She's softer than other girls I've been with. That's because she's not some doe eyed girl down at the slag heap.

She pulls away from me, taking my hand and leads me up the stairs and past her daughters' bedrooms into hers. The curtains are drawn and it smells like that perfume my mother liked to wear back when dad was alive and we could afford it.

I sit on the edge of her bed and she kneels in front of me. I didn't think Mrs Everdeen would do something like that. But then she just starts talking off my hunting boots for me and stands up.

Standing before me she removes her plain, frayed, dress. It falls around her feet as I look at her body. She looks nothing like the other ones I've been with, her bodies softer. Not as firm. She skin is different. Not as tight. She's still beautiful, but in a worn out way.

I take her in my arms again, kissing her, it'll feel right soon. I hope.

Straddling my lap is my best friend's mother. A woman who is the same age as my mother and a woman I've known since I was 14, barely 14.

Without me even realising it she's removed my shirt and started on my pants. She on top of me again and I stroke her thighs moving to her hips, up her waist, to her breasts. All of it's so different. She's supple, I'm used to toned.

After removing her underwear she pushes me back against the plush mattress. It's nothing like the threadbare one at my small home in The Seam. Nothing about this bed is like mine back home, the lavish sheets, over stuffed pillows. We've one pillow in my home between the five of us. Mother and Posey have it. Don't think about Mother. Or Posey.

Mrs Everdeen, Eilian, is moving above me. It feels amazing; I'm not going to last long.

Don't say her daughter's name, whatever you do don't.

What would Katniss think if she knew what I was doing? She'd shoot me.

She's moving faster and it's almost too much. It is too much and the only sound that fills the quite room is my grunts as I cum.

She stops moving, still above me. I can see the disappointment in her eyes. She was expecting more. After getting off me she starts getting dressed again.

"Don't worry Gale; I know you'll be better next time." She isn't looking at me.

Next time? Do I want a next time? Yes.

Before I get a chance to respond I can hear Katniss and Prim coming into the house. Mrs Everdeen leaves the room, fully dressed, to see them.

By the time I make it down stairs all three are sitting at the table. Prim talking a mile a minute. And the moment I make eye contact with her I swear Katniss knows.

"What were you doing upstairs, Gale?"


	6. Lesson 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Dirty Talk

My hand grips the phone receiver tighter. I'm sure my knuckles have gone white. One hand, this will never work. I settle the phone back into its cradle putting the machine on speaker. Hands free, better, easier. I place my hands against my thighs just as her voice fills the room.

"I've been waiting for your call all day." I love the unimpressed tone in her voice. She's never pleased. Well almost never pleased. As my hands brush against my thighs moving higher and higher, I imagine her sitting there a noncommittal look on her face, legs crossed, the hem of her dress moving higher and higher.

But I stop, my hands and my thoughts, when I hear him reply.

"I'd apologies but I'm not sorry. I just wanted to build you anticipation." His voice sounds just like it does television. Just as playful, just as charismatic, and just as scripted.

"Well it worked. I've been thinking about this all day. This morning when I was in the shower and before when I was out in the forest where nobody could hear me scream out your name." I bit my lip to hold back the groan I feel at her words. I don't want to disturb them. It's better when you all act like it's only the two of them.

"And what did you think about me doing that had you screaming hmm?"

"I was thinking about the last time we were together. Remember that Finnick?"

He's silent, thinking it over. I lean towards the phone. I need to know what happened. It's obvious they fucked. But I want, need, details.

"Yes." Is that it? I push back into my chair. I did not pay for this.

"When I was in the shower I was thinking about when you tried to teach me to swim in the training centre pool. But instead we just ended up fucking in the shallow end." Her voice has gotten low, as if telling a secret. As if she hopes I won't hear. Of course I'll hear.

"I thought about how you pushed up against the cold tile and kissed me as hard as you could. You were so frustrated that I wasn't doing as I was told."

Do you ever? I think.

"Do you ever?" I can hear the smile in his voice.

"So when I leaned against the cold tile of the shower I imagined it was the pool and slipped my hand between my legs. I thought about how much I enjoy defying you."

Now were getting somewhere. I unbutton my pants, pushing them down towards my ankles along with my underwear.

"Just a second Johanna." The rustling sound of his clothes being removed comes out of the speaker.

"Take off your panties and then tell me about what you did in the woods." We're all silent as we wait for her to fill his request. The only thing I can hear is my own laboured breathing. They're so close to giving me what I want.

"But the once in the shower wasn't enough. Then again the once in the pool wasn't either."

"Naa of course not." His voice it strained.

"Have you got a hold of your cock?"

"Yes."

"Good. I've got my fingers in pussy. Imagining it's you. Remembering what it felt like…" She stops her breathes getting heavier, her words slower and less thought-out.

My hand has moved to the apex of my legs. Moving in a way that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head and a loud groan leave my mouth. If they hear it, they chose to ignore it.

I wonder how many other people have heard this story. Who cares.

She starts talking again, "What it felt like when you bent me over the table in your Capitol room, where you punished me for being naughty, again."

"Felt good didn't it? I love feeling you wrapped around me as I fuck you."

My left hand grips the arm rest of my seat. While my right moves more frantic as I get closer to my release.

"Keep doing it Jo. I want to hear you scream my name like you did on top of that table."

They both stop talking all I can hear are the sounds of their moaning, nothing else. I don't need more. I'm getting so close. I know hearing one of them cum would finish me. Just a little bit more.

Then I hear another voice, a third voice, come through the speaker.

_"Thank you for choosing Capitol selective entertainment. If you would like to buy more minutes for our Victor VIP service please contact your nearest Escort. And again thank you"_


	7. Lesson 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: Teenage Sex Gods

She can't tell what hurts more: the hunger pains that almost permanently fill her hollow stomach, or the winter winds that beat against her making her feel like a thousand pins are being pressed into her exposed skin.

She borrowed a pair of shoes from her mother and a dress from Hazel. She told the each of them it was for the other.

Trying not to catch the eyes of the other desperate girls waiting, she casts her gaze towards the dim street lamp five houses down.

Mellark Bakery

The paint making up the words is peeling off of the aged wood that made the front of the store. Seeing a single light on in a room on the second floor of the bakery makes her wonder if it is the boy who saved her life long enough to get her to this point.

A part of her hates him for it. Right now all she can think of is how he prolonged her suffering.

Her attention is drawn away when the door to the home she stands in front of opens. The frame of the large peacekeeper fills the doorway. His red, sweating face looks over the girls and she feels more nervous when his gaze falls on her. He jerks his head back in a gesture for her to get inside the house.

It takes her moment to get past the nerves and actually move, but once she's inside the door closes behind her with a loud thud.

"Turn around." His voice is rough and he's slurring. Clearly he's already started on the while liquor for the night. This scares her.

"Turn round then." He's getting impatient.

She holds her breath and straightens her back as she turns to face him. She can do this, she has to do this. There is no other way.

"Well if it isn't little Katniss Everdeen. I'd been wondering how long it'd be before you'd be knocking on my door." The smile on his face sends shivers down her spine.

"How… how much?" Her voice breaks as she speaks to him. She just wants to get the night over and done with, so she never has to think about it again.

"Eager are we. I like that. I like that a lot," His lips are right against her ear as her speaks to her, and his figure is domineering over hers. "Thirty coins for the night."

Only thirty coins. She thought it would be more. She needs it to be more. But she needs to take what she can get. It will have to do.

"Okay. How do we do this?"

His booming laugh fills the room, "What do you mean 'how do we do this'? You mean to tell you never done this before"

"I meant do you pay me before or after. But now that you ask, no, I haven't done this. Nothing like this, I'm a virgin."

Her nerves gave way to anger. How dare he laugh at her?

Before she has a chance to leave, or to let her anger get the best of her, he pushes her against the wall. His mouth moves hard against hers. She's sure there will be a notable bruise on her face in the morning.

His large hands move roughly against her legs bringing Hazels dress to her waist, then further, over her head. He stood back from her then, taking in her bare form.

He leads her through the house to the bedroom.

"Sit down. On the edge," he instructs her while pulling his pants down.

He stands in front of her, pants off, his cock at her eye level.

"Give me your hand." She reaches up to him and he grabs her wrist bringing her hand to his hardness. Covering her hand in his own, he moves them both up and down.

"Just keep doing that till I tell ya to stop," He mumbles at her.

Her wrist hurts from the repetitive movement. But she knows better than to stop. He leans in closer to her.

Once her hand is off him; he pushes her back against the bed. Every muscle in her body tightens in fear, as he parts her legs.

She can't help the cry that slips out of her when he pushes inside her. The smile pulling at his lips tells her he enjoys that. He enjoys the proof that he's truly defiled her.

She feels her body tremble as he moves against her –inside her, and she's powerless to stop it. Head to the side, and away from his view, she lets her first tears of the night fall. The only sounds filling the room are the sounds from the bed, his grunts and her sobs.

His pace gets faster, pushing in and out of her at an erratic pace before he suddenly stills; dropping all his weight against her with a final grunt. She welcomes the ache between her legs when he pulls out for the final time.

The now constant pain between her legs made it difficult to get dressed. He hands her a bag of coins at the door and tells her to come back for more as she leaves.

She knows he's sitting back laughing to himself over his drink when she makes it halfway home and looks in to the bag.

Ten coins.


	8. Lesson 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Unresolved Sexual Tension

The paint on the tip of my brush glides across the canvas. The whole painting is really starting to come together. Each stroke perfect, at least they were until I was startled by a noise downstairs. Immediately I think it's Haymitch. Looking around for his back up stash of liquor, but the footsteps are to quiet. Greasy Sae maybe, but she doesn't often leave her home anymore.

I never suspected it was Katniss. Since my return to District Twelve nearly 2 years ago we'd only ever meet at her house, or Haymitchs. Or on one of the few times she ventured out that far, in the recently rebuilt town square, but never in my house.

But that isn't what surprises me the most. After standing in my living room just staring at each other for several moments she confidently strides over to me. With one hand on either side of my face she brings me down to her.

It's been so long since I've kissed her. Since I've felt her lips move against mine. Through my surprise she manages to pull a moan from me. One of my hands has a light hold of her braid and my other has a tight grip on her hip. I feel like my knees are going to buckle the moment she deepens the kiss and her tongue starts to move against mine.

Once I feel her hands move into my hair and gently tug I pull away. This is too good to be true. Either this is a dream or Katniss is in one of her emotional states, although I've never seen her act this way during one.

"What's wrong?" Her voice is so small. She thinks I'm rejecting her. As if I ever could.

"I should be asking you that."

A look of confusion spreads across her face.

"Why are you acting like this Katniss?" I try to keep my voice as even and calm as possible, not letting my nerves show, I can't scare her anymore then she already is.

Panic fills me as she backs away. I just wanted to be sure she wanted this. I didn't want her to feel rejected and hate me for it.

"I'm just tired of it Peeta. I want it to stop." I would be worried by her words if it wasn't for the light tone to her voice. Now it's my turn to be confused as a smile pulls across her lips. "I'm tired of not getting what I want. For nearly as long as I can remember I've put everyone before me and never bothered to really think about what I want and what would make me happy. And then when I finally got the chance to decide who I wanted when I was finally given a choice it ended up being no choice at all. But that stops now. Now I get what I want."

Before I get a chance to ask her what she wants her lips are on mine again, her hands in my hair, and she's pushing us towards the wall furthest the window.

I feel her hands leave my hair as I dip my head down to kiss her neck. Just as I suck at the skin just below her ear I feel her undoing the buttons of my shirt.

A deep moan leaves me as I feel her nails scrape across the skin of my chest. Tracing the scars, putting to memory every mark that's on me and I don't feel self-conscious at all.

My fingers move from her hips to her stomach, right under the hem of her shirt. I feel every raised scar on her beautiful skin as I slowly bring the bottom of her shirt higher and higher.

Her shirt falls to the floor and she tries to shy away and cover herself from me.

I take her hands in mine and hold them at our sides, giving me a full view of her.

"I've spent years imagining what you would feel like under my hands, what you would look like. And I was wrong all this time."

I pause for a moment, just so I can continue looking at her.

"I've imagined your skin would be so soft to touch and flawless without a mark on you. I've spent years wanting to kiss every inch of you and to just look at you because I could. Now that I finally have that chance I know everything I've pictured over the years has been wrong."

I feel her trying to pull her hands from me. Trying to get away but I won't let her. Not until I'm finished.

"You are so much more beautiful than I ever imagined. I don't care about the scars. They don't make you ugly. They show how strong you are. So don't ever hide them from me. I don't want to kiss every inch of you. I want to love every inch of like you deserve. And I don't want to look at you because I can. I look at you because I can't look away."

I let go of her hands, expecting her to run away. Instead she wraps her arms around my shoulders and kisses me again. This kiss isn't like the ones we started with. This one is slow and thoughtful and makes my knees want to buckle for a whole other reason. This kiss isn't out of lust. It's out of love and I never want her to stop.


	9. Lesson 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Dialogue during sex scenes.

"I heard that the butcher is looking for an apprentice." She sounded so hopeful that I couldn't tell her that he'd never take me. I couldn't crush her hope.

"Yeah, I'll ask around about it about when we head into town tomorrow." My fingers played with the ends of her hair. She always wore it down. She looked so beautiful.

"If he chose you then you wouldn't have to go to the mines." I wanted to kiss the small smile playing across her face. Kiss it and make it go away.

"Maybe after a year or so. If I take in some laundry and we save. Really save. We could move from the seam. Raise our kids better than what we had." Of course at the time I agreed with her. I never could deny her anything. Never tried.

"Maybe." We were lying on her bed. In the small room she shared with her sisters. They were at school.

"Will you ask him before or after the reaping?"

"After. Just in case."

Her smile left her face then along with a lot of the light in her beautiful eyes.

"Don't say that. Don't." Her voice was so small. I took her into my arms.

"Don't worry about it. They'd never pick me." If I only I knew at the time how big a lie that was.

She didn't look at me. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

I lifted her chin to face me again bringing her mouth to mine.

She felt as though she hardly weighed a thing when I gently pushed her down against the thin mattress. The too old springs of the bed had groaned in protest.

"Haymitch, not now." Her voice had a sigh to it. She didn't really mean it and I knew that but I still asked, "why not?"

My voice had been muffled because I was kissing along her neck.

'What if my parents came home?' It was the same thing she said every time we moved past hand holding. Which was a lot.

I still think about how beautiful the giggle she let out sounded when I said, "as if they don't already know. There is a reason after all as to why your father is always holding the wood axe when he answers the door for me."

"I don't know why he bothers."

Before I could reply she'd turned us over.

My girl liked to act innocent. But I knew better. I was the only one who knew better.

Her grey dress, covered in patches rode up her olive toned thighs as she straddled me.

My hands ran down her back undoing the buttons of her dress and then ran back up stroking her skin.

"Take it off." She always was bossy.

She'd sat back up so I could take the dress off of her. She'd tried to lean back down, kiss me again. I didn't let her.

"No. Just let me look at you."

She did. I'll never forget that image.

"You know it doesn't matter where we live or what we do to make a living it'll be perfect as long as you're there every day with me." Every word of it was true.

"As long as you promise to stay with me every day too."

Like she had to ask. I didn't answer her.

I just pulled her against me and kissed her until we couldn't hold our breath anymore.

Every time we'd been together had been on that bed. Then was no exception.

The whole time she moved above me she was telling me how much she loved me and I told her the same.

She told me about how once we were ineligible for reaping we could start a family.

Boys. She wanted lots of them. I wouldn't deny her. I told her we would need at least six boys before we had one daughter.

"Why?" It came out as a pant as she moved faster.

"Because if our daughter is even a quarter as beautiful as you then I'm gonna need all the help I can get."

It was true.

We talked the whole way through. She liked it when we did that.

For two reasons she said.

Made it more intimate. Both our bodies and our minds. I laughed.

Also because apparently when we spoke like this I said the first thing that came to mind. Never lied.

Afterwards we just lay together. Still talking.

"Promise you'll go talk to the butcher. Please?"

"Yeah, right after the reaping."

I think about that afternoon every day now. I think about how I never did end up seeing the butcher. I think about how the next time I saw her lying in that bed waiting for me, the sheets were stained red and her throat was wide open.

Another message from the Capitol to its newest victor.


	10. Lesson 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around 700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Orgasm me to bits and then the end.

Being an escort is a very sought after position, no matter how low the district, so certain procedures have been put in place to sort out undesirable influences on the tributes.

They must be tested for background. Can't have any rebellious sympathizers this close to the games. Could be disastrous. Proper upbringings are required for all escorts. Good breeding is paramount after all.

Then public image, can't have some boorish brut representing the superiority of The Capitol to the Districts.

After that, compliance. If it's expected of our victors it's expected of our escorts.

If the Victors are made to entertain the higher persons of Panem then their escorts are expected to do the same.

These are things every escort knows, and these are things Effie Trinket is about to learn.

Effie sat calm and collected as she waited in one of the many halls of the mansion. She would let no one see her nervousness. She would be the perfect lady.

She hadn't understood why she'd been called to meet the President. Her family background check had been impeccable, as one would expect of a Trinket.

She and her family held a well respect image among their class in the community. So it couldn't be about that.

Effie Trinket was truly baffled.

But she started to understand when Snow asked her about how she would publicize a Victor to the Capitol. He did not like her answer and gave her the correct one in return.

"With yourself, Miss Trinket."

Of course she had heard rumours about what a Victor and Escort must do. But she thought them nothing more than just silly rumours spoken around the champagne bottle at parties.

So when he asked if she knew what he meant she so desperately wanted to deny any knowledge in the hope that ignorance is in fact bliss. But she knew better then to lie to him. So when she said yes, yes she knew. He replied.

"Show me. Prove to me you do"

Naturally Effie prided herself on being a lady of the highest standard. So needless to say she never felt more humiliated and degraded in her life then in the moment she sank to her knees before him.

It was difficult for her to bring her hand up towards the growing bludge in his pants. It seemed as though her mind knew what she had to do but her body was just unwilling.

Just this once. You just have to prove it to him once. And better to prove it on your knees then on your back, she told herself.

It didn't help.

As she took her President into her hand she resolved that her attitude in the hallway would be required in this office as well.

Show no one how nervous you really are.

She is after all the perfect lady. No matter what the situation.

She did not react nor did she falter at his jab that if her intention was to only ever use her hands a lot of her tributes would end up dead because she would never get a sponsor like that.

She would need to fix her lip make up after taking him in her mouth. She can only hope no one can guess why it's smeared on her face.

She thought all in all at this point the interview is going quite well. He didn't seem angry with her at all. Rather the opposite truth be told.

His hand moved to the back of her neck. Changing her pace. It sent chills down her spine.

She could hear the leather on the arm rest of his chair groan under the pressure of his other hand clutching it.

The sound of both their breathing filled the room.

His deep and expectant. Waiting for the end.

Hers quick and shallow. Begging for the end.

After he came down her throat he dismissed her from the room with just a wave of his hand.

It wasn't until Miss Trinket was at the door that he said anything to her.

"Well done Miss Trinket. Most escorts don't handle the first one with such grace."

Oh dear. The 'first one' she did not like the sound of that.

"You may have District 12"

After all that all she got was 12.


End file.
